


Who Puts up a Fight Walking out of Hell

by TheDirtyBirdie-Archive (TheDirtyBirdie)



Series: Prompt/Request Fills [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Smut, Bondage, Breathplay, Cock Worship, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Electrocution, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Hate Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Revenge Sex, Sadism, Somnophilia, Vaguely Canon-Adjacent, painal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 11:41:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14284155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie-Archive
Summary: Prompt:Peter (as Spider-Man) catches feelings for Wade but is afraid too admit to them. Some nights, he breaks into Wade's apartment and rides him while he's asleep. Wade wakes up and catches him, instead of a cliché 'I love you, too' moment, Wade feels violated (as he should), so, Peter webs him down and uses him like a dildo. Afterwards, Wade acts very different around Peter, it doesn't go unnoticed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **READ THE TAGS**  
>  Seriously, this fic warrants many warnings. Please understand that this is rape fic, beginning to end. There's nothing healthy about it so please don't expect there to be. I've given as clear a warning as I can. 
> 
> I wasn't picturing any particular iteration of the characters, so imagine whichever you like best! Peter has organic web shooters for the sake of the story. 
> 
> This story [fulfills a request](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/post/171620277291/i-have-a-weird-request-so-peter-catches-feelings) ♥ The title is from _[I Fought Piranhas](https://open.spotify.com/track/0E80DphrZL3GWYozIIofX6?si=v2vr7vTMSnyJhKHSJiXM6g)_ by **The White Stripes**.

Every now and then, Peter gets an itch. 

* * *

* * *

“Come on,” Wade- Deadpool pleads. “Kiss it better, Spidey. I’m a citizen in need, in  _ distress- _ ”

“You’re an idiot.” Peter corrects, taking a too-large lick of ice cream to compensate for the burn of his cheeks, ever grateful that when he rolls his mask up to eat they aren’t quite uncovered. If Wade knew how tempting the idea of kissing anything on his person better was, he’d never live it down.

“You wound me, baby boy.” Deadpool pouts. Peter rolls his eyes.

* * *

* * *

 

No matter how many times he does this, he never quite manages to quell his nerves.

It’s warm out, but Peter’s hands are shaking slightly as he slides Wade’s window open, the merc doesn’t even know that Peter knows where he lives. Or maybe he does, it’s hard to say. He’s not certain how much of this Wade is aware of, he hopes none, but sometimes he wonders if Wade has found him out and simply chooses not so say anything. Maybe he’s… waiting for him? 

The thought makes Peter go gooey inside, distressing and comforting all at once, it makes it easier to slip down through the window and into Wade’s kitchen, carefully sliding it shut behind him, and make his way down the hall, towards Wade’s bedroom. 

He finds the older man as he always does, splayed out on his bed in the nude, only the faint light from outside to shine across his rough skin. It’s more than enough for Peter’s enhanced senses to pick the details of him, better than most would manage in the light, even. Wade’s sweating, just slightly, probably too cheap for air-conditioning despite the fact that Peter  _ knows _ he can afford it. 

There’s sheet wrapped messily around him and nothing heavier. It looks like he must’ve had a hard time getting to sleep, Peter knows it’s not from tossing and turning once he’d already managed. Wade sleeps like the dead. 

He crosses the threshold into the bedroom and tip-toes towards the bed. He knows that he could be louder, stride normally, Wade never wakes up even when he does much, much more, but he’s unable to resist the natural impulse to stay as covert as possible. In a way it’s an indulgence, a little thrilling. It sounds silly, that a superhero might need to get his kicks sneaking into someone’s bedroom, but this isn’t just anyone, this is  _ Wade _ . 

Peter’s heart-rate kicks up when he reaches the foot of the bed and he forces himself to stop and take a deep, steadying breath. Once he’s feeling a little less jittery, he retrieves the small, foil packet of lube he’d brought, pulling it out of his pocket and placing it on the bed by Wade’s hip before grabbing hold of the hem of his hoodie to tug it over his head, carefully toeing off his sneakers as he does. His fingers still tremble as he undoes the button of his jeans, drawing down the zipper, it’s loud enough to be jarring to his overblown senses in the otherwise silent apartment. 

When he kicks off his pants and briefs, the chill of the air against his bare skin makes him shiver, just a little, hair rising across his legs. Still wearing his t-shirt, he crawls onto the bed, moving forward until he can lean back on his heels and be hovering over Wade’s knees, careful to remain not quite touching. 

He draws in another deep breath, trying to tamp down the sick thrill in the pit of is stomach that always begins to swell around this point. He shouldn’t- there’s nothing to feel sick about, he reminds himself. What Wade doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right? He  _ needs _ this. Besides, he makes passes at Peter often enough, Peter just knows he’d be okay with this.

This is what he tells himself as his fingers ghost over the sheets, breath stalling for a moment when he hooks his fingers over the edge of the sheet, hesitating infinitesimally before pulling it back. The breath leaves him all at once when Wade’s cock is revealed, lying fat and soft against his thigh. Peter aches with desire at the sight of it, eager to feel the familiar stretch of him splitting him open. 

With unsteady hands, he reaches out to drag his fingers over the soft skin of Wade’s cock. It twitches under his touch, and something unclenches in Peter’s chest. Wade enjoys this, even if he doesn’t know it. Emboldened, he wraps his hand around Wade, smoothing his thumb over the thick vein running along the underside of him, appreciating the weight of him in his hand. 

Gripping Wade a little tighter, he points his cock upwards so he can bend forward to drag his tongue over the head of him, only barely managing to hold back a groan of anticipatory pleasure at the familiar taste. If he ever works up the nerve, or the stupidity, to tell Wade how he feels, he thinks his first priority would be sucking his cock. Getting to see the way Wade’s eyes would go heavy, feel his hands pulling at his hair, he’d let Wade have it however he wanted. He could fuck Peter’s face until he cried, if he wanted to. 

Just the thought of it is enough to make his chest hurt, he wants that so, so bad, but he knows it’s a terrible idea. For now, this will have to be enough. 

Of course, it’s not all bad, one of the upsides to doing things like this is that he gets to take his time. His back bows down low as he settles in enough to drag his lips down the side of Wade’s cock, inhaling deep when he reaches the base of him. He wants the musk of him so deeply imprinted on his senses that he’ll never be able to escape it. He presses a wet, open mouthed kiss to the root of his cock, slowly slipping downwards until he reaches his balls, lapping at them gently, sucking them into his mouth one at a time. When he pulls back to lap at the head, he feels almost giddy. 

The taste of Wade is one he somehow never tires of. Sharp and strong and raw, he’s addicted. 

Dropping down again to suckle at the tender head of his cock, he runs his tongue around the rim of him, delighted when Wade twitches against his lips. Excited anticipation swells inside him and he’s unable to resist the urge to suck Wade into his mouth properly, eager to get him hard and ease the pressure of desire already knotted up in the core of him.

Letting himself be sloppy with spit to ease the way, he drools down the side of his cock as he works him further and further into his mouth, shivering when Wade finally grazes the back of his throat. He’s getting hotter, fatter, longer in Peter’s mouth and the increased weight of him on his tongue makes holding back his moans a very real struggle. The throb of Wade’s cock in his mouth makes his own twitch, but he’s near leaking already, he’s been hard since he set eyes on Wade. 

He sucks him down, savouring the way that the mass of Wade begins to choke the breath from his lungs as he hardens, blocking the him from breathing when Peter forces himself down to the root. When he finally feels the thick, salty liquid beginning to push its way out of Wade’s cock at a sluggish pace, he pulls back, reluctant. There’s an ache in his jaw and he wishes it was stronger, intense enough to last through a day or two, at least. 

Reaching over to grab the packet of lube he’d brought with him, Peter shuffles forward until he’s braced over Wade’s thighs, tearing it open. He squeezes the thick liquid out into one hand and drops the empty packet carefully onto his jeans, making sure he won’t leave it behind when he goes. He rubs his hands together for a few seconds, spreading and warming the lube, strangely turned on by the wet sound of it between his hands, and reaches down to wrap both around Wade’s cock. 

Wade truly does have a magnificent cock, Peter thinks to himself, admiring it as he runs his hands over it. Not so large as to be truly impossibly, but big enough to make him hurt, with a pleasant curve. It’s a shame he seems to let it go to waste, seeing as Peter never finds anyone else in his bed. Of course, he knows he’d hate it if he did. He’s not sure what he’d think, what he’d do. 

Once Wade is slick, Peter reaches back to wipe the excess lube over himself, not bothering to be precise about it. He never likes to be  _ too _ ready for Wade, he knows that what he’s doing is dangerous, Wade could catch him,  _ see  _ his _ face _ , and the longer he can feel the lingering ache of his cock, the longer Peter can go before he starts to get that itch, again. The one that only Wade can scratch.

Shuffling forward until his knees bracket Wade’s hips, just a little space between them, he reaches back to grip his cock. The impulse to drag it over the crease of himself is too strong to resist, so, he does just that, shuddering with the anticipation that wells up in his chest as Wade’s slick cock slides across his skin. 

When he catches on his hole on the way back up, Peter grips hard and begins to bear down. He always takes this part painfully slow, he tells himself it’s to avoid waking Wade, but deep down he really just loves the way it hurts. Sharp pain flares up through his spine as Wade’s cock slowly forces open his ring of muscle. He’s always painfully tight. Even if Wade doesn’t know it, he’s the only one who’s ever had him like this. Peter’s sucked a lot of cock and he’s not too shy to admit to himself that he’s loved it, but somehow he thinks having anyone else inside him like this would only disappoint. 

The head of Wade’s cock finally breaches him entirely and Peter sighs shakily. His whole body is vibrating with nervous energy, he feels like an exposed nerve. He tips his head back, letting his eyes slip shut, and tries to focus on the feeling of Wade’s cock pushing him open, sliding deeper and filling him up inch by inch. He doesn’t want to be distracted. 

His muscles burn and he knows his legs are shaking, but the sharp pain of the stretch is starting to fade to a dull, aching burn and he’s just not ready to let go yet. Without giving himself a chance to brace for it, he drops down onto Wade’s cock hard enough he bottoms out, and lets out an involuntary cry. His head snaps up, hand coming up to slap over his mouth. Wade’s body has gone stiff underneath him. 

He feels- he doesn’t know what he feels. Sick, terrified, excited, like he wants to cry and he’s not sure why. 

When he forces himself to open his eyes, Wade is staring back at him. 

Peter’s never seen Wade look like that, before. He wonders if this is what people see right before he decides to run them through with one of his katanas, or put a bullet in their brain. He thinks it might be. He’s fairly sure of it, actually. 

His heart is beating so hard, so fast it actually hurts inside his chest, it takes him a moment to work through the shock enough to realize that he’s  _ scared _ . Really, sincerely scared. 

“Wade-” He hates how out of breath he sounds.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing-” He’s never heard Wade’s voice like this, either. It sends a chill through his spine. 

“Wade-” He pleads again, voice starting to shake. 

“Or who you think you are-”

Oh.  _ Oh. _

Of course, Wade doesn’t know it’s him. If he did- well, he’d like to think his reaction would be much, much better. He’d probably love to wake up and find Peter impaled on his cock. Peter quickly weighs the options in his mind, he’s either going to have to tell Wade who he is, or he’s going to have to fight him, probably kill him, again. He doesn’t want that. He wants Wade to want him.

“Wade, it’s me!” Wade doesn’t give a moment of pause to Peter’s interruption, continuing to speak threats that make Peter’s blood run cold, clearly not recognizing his voice. Peter’s turning over different ideas in his head when Wade lunges forward, hands going for his throat, and Peter panics. 

Half a second later, Wade’s hands are webbed to the wall behind him, just over his head. He just stares up at them, dumbfounded. 

It feels like an hour goes by without anyone saying anything, without anyone moving, but it can’t be more than a minute at most. A minute of Peter struggling to bring his breath back to normal while Wade stares up at his hands, unblinking, face unreadable. The silence is suffocating and eventually Peter breaks. 

“Wade,” His voice is small, tentative. Wade doesn’t look at him. Peter shifts nervously and in doing so causes Wade’s cock to drag inside him, sending shivers through his body. He’s somehow still incredibly hard, even with how terrified he is, maybe even more, because of it. 

Wade’s head snaps forward, eyes burning into Peter and it- he doesn’t look like Peter had thought- hoped he would. 

“Please, say something.” He begs. 

“ _ Why? _ ” Wade’s voice sounds like it’s being ripped from him, the incredible pain of it belying the stoic mask that’s fallen over his face. Peter doesn’t understand. 

“I… I thought you’d be happy. I thought you’d like it.” Peter explains, voice barely above his whisper. He’s sure, sure that’s how he’d felt, but the explanation feels week in the face of Wade’s pain, he has to wonder if, deep down, he knew it would be.

“Happy that you raped me?” Wade spits, his face does give way, then, to what he’s feeling. It’s enough to make Peter flinch back, feeling like he’s been slapped. 

“No! No, it’s not- it was never like that, Wade, I promise.

“Never like that?” Wade’s voice has gone cold. 

Peter’s heart is in his throat. There’s no use lying about it now. 

“I come here sometimes, to do this.” Wade looks like he’s going to be sick. “Wade, I swear, I can make it good for you. Please let me make it good for you.” He pleads. 

“No. Get off me. Right fucking now.” His tone is vicious but now that his face has given way to emotion, he can’t seem to banish it. Maybe he’s not even trying. The hurt in his eyes is obvious. 

But, he’s  _ wrong _ . Peter knows, he knows this is probably shocking, and he can see why Wade might get upset. Peter didn’t ask him, he should’ve asked him. He didn’t do this the normal way and he’d thought maybe because Wade isn’t normal, and he’s not normal, that could be okay. Good, even, but he’s clearly been wrong. But, right now, Wade is wrong. Peter knows that Wade wants him, he just has to show him how good he can make him feel and things can be better.

“I’m sorry.” Peter says, beginning to rock back on Wade’s softening cock. Wade chokes, looking like he might be on the verge of tears. 

_ “Get off me, if you ever-”  _ Peter webs his mouth shut, careful to leave him able to breathe through his nose. Wade- he knows what Wade’s about to say, Wade’s about to say something that will convince Peter to stop and he can’t let that happen. 

“You’ll see.” He promises, rocking back onto Wade’s cock more vigorously, now. “I swear, Wade, this is going to be good. You’re going to love it, okay? You just- you just need to see how good I can make you feel, and then it’ll be okay. We can figure things out.” He’s panting now, getting excited again. He knows it’s true, it  _ has _ to be true. Wade is going to understand how good they can be together, how good they are. 

Wade is making distressed, wounded noises behind the webbing, and Peter wishes they didn’t make his cock twitch the way they do. Something about them, it’s intoxicating. He can feel Wade slowly getting harder inside him and he can’t help moaning at the feeling, panting through his smile as he leans back to brace himself on Wade’s thighs. 

“I told you you’d like it.” He reminds Wade. Wade’s body has lost it’s aggressive, stiff posture from before, when he’d seemed ready to wrap his hands around Peter’s throat and choke the life from him the second he got the chance, and he’s now slumped back against the wall, wriggling occasionally like he wants to crawl out from inside his own skin. His pupils are blown wide but his eyes are empty.  

Pitching forward, Peter braces his hands on Wade’s chest, dropping his head down to his sternum as he works himself over Wade’s cock so he doesn’t have to see his face. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into Wade’s chest. Something in him feels wrong, hollowed out by the broken look in Wade’s eyes but unable to stop. “I’m sorry I need this. I’m sorry, Wade.” He can hear Wade swallow hard, and when he looks back there are tears shining in the older man’s eyes. 

Peter feels a pang of deep sorrow mixing with dark, desperate arousal in his gut. He pushes himself up and reaches forward to tear away the webs from Wade’s mouth. He’s doing this, but he deserves to hear whatever Wade is going to say. It’s both much better and much worse than Peter feared. 

“I wish I wanted this.” Wade chokes out, voice sounding horribly, devastatingly broken. Peter doesn’t stop moving. “I wanted you.”

“You don’t still?” Again, Peter hates how pitiful his voice sounds, like that. 

“No. I-don’t know. Not like this.” Wade is quiet when he finishes. 

Not like this. Peter can work with that. It doesn’t always have to be like this. He knows he won’t last much longer and starts pushing back onto Wade’s cock harder, clenching down to try and pull Wade towards orgasm with him. Wade’s full body flinches and Peter drops his head down into his shoulder, hands coming up to grip his shoulders. 

“It- it won’t be. Not again, not if you want me.” He promises. “You can have me however you like it, you just have to want me.”  Wade shudders, making a noise like he’s in pain, and Peter feels warmth explode inside of him. He moans into the older man’s neck, desperate heat flaring through him.

“Tell me you want me, Wade.” He bites down on Wade’s neck, hard enough to draw blood.

“Yeah.” Wade sobs out. “I do.” He’s not lying, he’s not lying, but he’s not happy. Peter comes when he says it, anyways. 

His orgasm is scraped out of him with a shocking amount of pain, like his body knows that’s what he needs. He burns and aches and stings all over, shaking until he finally, finally collapses against Wade’s chest, his cock slipping out of him as he slumps forward, already missing the fullness of him. 

“I hate you.” Wade whispers into his hair. He sounds like he means it, but Peter knows he can change his mind.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forewarning: this chapter is way more violent.

Wade hates Peter. 

He hates him for what he did. Hates him because for one stupid, fleeting moment, it had seemed like there was something, someone that might be  _ good _ in Wade’s life. Something he could aspire to, something worth changing for, and Peter ruined it. 

And yet.

Peter does things, now, that he didn’t before. He takes off his mask around Wade, tells him to use his real name, he flirts with him, he lets him see it when Wade makes his cheeks go pink. He brings him food, every time they go on patrol. He’s patient with him. He’s vulnerable around Wade, it should be laughable, it should make him sick, and it does, but somehow it also feels real. Genuine. Like something that could still be good.

Wade hates Peter because somehow, he still wants the person who raped him and it’s all his fault. 

Wade hates Peter because deep down, he’s just as fucked up as Wade, and he knows that, now, it makes it harder not to want him.

Where Wade kills, Peter takes. Maybe it’s not his fault that Wade made himself so easy to take from.

“Hey,” Peter nudges him, drawing his attention back into the real world, back to him. Back to the smell of the burrito in his hand, one of Peter’s usual offerings. “I’m- are we ever going to be better? For real?” He’s lost his appetite. 

“No.” He looks away, unwilling to see the heartbreak in Peter’s soft eyes. It’s ridiculous, that he should still feel their effect.

“Please, Wade. I’d do anything to make it up to you.” He sounds like he might cry. “I miss you.” He tries again, quieter.

“Well, should’ve thought of that before breaking into my fuckin’ apartment, baby boy. Guess life’s just a bitch that way, huh?” He tosses his food off the roof and gets up, but Peter catches his arm before he can walk away. 

“You can hurt me, if you want?” He looks up at Wade with those big, deceptively innocent eyes, Wade can imagine them blackened so easily, can practically see bruises blooming over his cheeks, blood splitting the lip he’s rolling between his teeth like it was right there in front of him. 

Wade is tempted.

He brings up the arm that Peter is clinging to and grabs him by the throat. Squeezing, testing. 

Peter’s hands fly up to his neck to pry Wade’s hand away and Wade laughs. 

“Liar.” Peter’s face falls, looking devastated. He tries to keep hold of Wade’s arm when it drops but he shakes him off, rough, turning to walk away. 

“No, Wade.” He begs. “I meant it, I meant it. Please, let me prove it. I don’t want to lose you.” 

‘You already have’ Wade wants to bite back. He wants it to be true, he wants so desperately to be able to tell Peter that he’s already lost him and he should fuck off and have it be true, but it’s not. 

Maybe that means it’s Wade’s turn to take. 

“You’ll really do anything?”

“Yes,” Peter agrees, frantic for Wade to believe him. “Yes, Wade, whatever you want. Please, give me a chance?”

“Alright, baby boy, you’ve got one chance. By the way, what the hell is that  _ thing _ on your neck?” Wade asks, outwardly disgusted, but inwardly amused. 

“Wh- what?” Peter stammers, hands coming up to clutch at his neck, searching. Wade slips a hand into his pocket, waiting for the exact moment that Peter’s fingers brush over the small disc Wade had pressed into his neck when he choked him, eyes going wide with confusion, and flips the switch. 

Peter’s veins bulge and he goes stiff all over, falling backwards into the ground, feet still dangling off the roof. Wade laughs and flips the switch off, walking over to crouch down by Peter, where he’s struggling to regain his breath on the ground. 

“Let’s make a deal, baby boy.” Peter’s hand comes up to claw at the disc and Wade grabs his wrist to stop him. “Nah, nah, nah, none of that.” He growls, pleased to see Peter drop his hand back to the ground without protest. He doesn’t try to sit up when Wade presses a hand to his chest, making sure he’s pushing hard enough for it to hurt. Peter will have a bruise there, tomorrow.

“If you’re really sorry, I won’t have to use this again. How does that sound?” Peter looks up at him, not quite grasping what he’s saying, but hopeful. He should be scared, Wade wants him to be scared. Wade wants him not to mean it, so he can stop  _ giving a shit _ . He wants Peter to be weak and pitiful, unwilling and unable to take the punishment he deserves so that Wade can let go of him and not be sorry. Not miss any part of him. 

“It sounds good.” He breathes.

“You don’t even know what I mean.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Peter insists. “You won’t need it.”

“Fine.” Wade huffs. He’s angry that his plan isn’t working. Shoving off Peter’s chest and standing back up, he decides he’ll call Peter’s bluff, even if Peter doesn’t realize that’s what he’s doing, he’ll make him see. “Take off your suit.”

Peter sits up, and for a moment, he thinks he’s won. Peter looks nervous, like he wants to protest, Wade knows he’s worried that someone might see him. That’s the point. 

Unfortunately, he’s more committed than Wade expected. Peter stands up, looking a little shaky, and lets his suit go loose so he can slip out of it, glancing around, paranoid that someone is watching him despite the fact that he already knows no one is, he wouldn’t have taken his mask off, otherwise. 

As Wade expected, he’s not wearing anything under the suit. He moves to cover himself and Wade smacks his hand away hard enough to leave a welt. 

“Did you give a shit about my privacy, sweetheart?” Peter drops his head, shamefaced, and shakes it. “Didn’t think so.”

Kicking his legs out from under him so he falls to his knees, crying out in pained surprise as he lands on the rough pebbles underneath him, Wade grabs hold of his hair and drags him forward across the gravel, he hopes his knees bleed. He lets go to open his belt, reaching into the pants of his suit to get his cock out, and Peter looks up at him, finally, finally a trace of fear in his eyes. 

Suddenly, Wade isn’t so sure he wants him to go. He does want him to be scared, though. 

“If you back out now, baby boy, I’ll never forgive you.” He’d meant it to only be compelling, but it comes out with more raw honesty than he’d expected.

He grabs Peter by the jaw, forcing it open, and pulls him forward to feed him his cock. He feels a little sick and a lot turned on. He’s not sure when his heart started to race but when he’s got Peter gagging on his cock, eyes squeezed shut as Wade forces him down further, he can hear the pulse of it rushing in his ears. 

Peter gasps for air when Wade pulls him back, he’s red down to his chest and he’s heaving like he might actually throw up and Wade fucking hates the way he wants more. He shoves Peter back down his cock so that he won’t have to think about it. Peter’s head shakes as Wade forces him down, grinding up into his face when he can feel his throat convulsing around his cock, shaking him a little, just for fun, savouring the wet, distressed noises he makes as he gurgles incoherently around his cock. 

Letting himself get carried away, Wade tests Peter’s limits, fucking into his throat happily, seeing how hard he can go, how long he can hold him there, before Peter gives in, equally pleased and angry every time he manages to take what Wade gives him. When he thrusts in particularly hard, he can actually  _ feel _ the bile rise up in Peter’s throat, though he manages to swallow it down. Wade groans and the next time he thrusts in he reaches down to grip his cock through Peter’s throat, squeezing and massaging. 

This time, when he pulls back Peter sways dangerously, Wade bites his lip, deliberating for only a millisecond before giving in to impulse and smacking Peter hard across the face to liven him up, moaning as he shoves his cock back down his throat. Something in him has come loose, now. It’s strange, hard to pinpoint how, or why, but he thinks it’s possible that he’s stumbled into some genuine catharsis. 

He hadn’t thought this would help, not truly, he’d thought it would either drive Peter out of his life, or drive him insane. This… helping, maybe, possibly, hadn’t really been on the table. 

Peter looks like he’s going to pass out again, so this time when he pulls back he kicks him down into the gravel with a foot to his chest, cock throbbing with the way it knocks the breath out of him. He steps forward and drops down to his knees, dragging Peter over the gravel yet again as he lines himself up. Some part of him is screaming, telling him that Peter needs to be stretched, slicked,  _ cherished _ , the part of him that still feels good when Peter blushes around him, instead of sick. 

He imagines crushing that part of himself under his boot as he forces his way inside Peter’s body. Peter cries, convulsing as he fights his instinct to push away from Wade, fists clenched so hard around the gravel that his palms are bloody. Through all this, though, Wade doesn’t miss the fact that his cock is hard and leaking. 

Good. 

He hopes Peter hates it as much as he did. He hopes he feels as fucking sick with himself as Wade had, having something,  _ everything _ taken from him and finishing despite it. 

The grip of his body is borderline painful when Wade pulls back, he considers spitting on his cock to ease the way, for his own sake, but he’s loathe to make this any easier on Peter. Willing to suffer through a little pain to make Peter hurt more. Besides, he’s seen much, much worse. 

He pushes into him again, and again, and again, never giving an inch, folding Peter in half so he can leverage his weight down and bottom out every time. Each thrust is punctuated by a sob from the body below him and Wade loves it, wants it louder, want it to be all he hears. Peter’s broken, pained voice.

Pressure is starting to swell inside him, heat rolling through his body, and he knows he’s getting close. He reaches up with one hand to squeeze Peter’s throat. The boy’s hands fly up to Wade’s arm, and for a second he half worries that he’s done it, he’s fucking broken him right as he was getting  _ so close _ to thinking this could actually  _ be _ something, but Peter’s hands don’t push or pull, they just rest on his arm, clenching and unclenching but not moving. 

Wade grins and squeezes down harder, watching Peter’s face go purple as he comes all over himself, his release painting his stomach and chest. When Peter’s hand fall to the ground, limp, and Wade releases his throat as he realizes he’s passed out, he has a beautiful idea.    


Giving one last, hard, thrust, he pulls out and shuffles up Peter’s body, taking hold of his cock and jerking himself hard and fast towards Peter’s face. He shudders as his orgasm punches through him, it’s so unbelievably, deeply satisfying, he feels weightless afterwards, both literally and figuratively. 

Letting himself fall to the side, he admires his handiwork. Peter is splayed out in the blood-stained gravel, legs wide, leaving his used hole on display, face painted with Wade’s come, his own smeared across his torso, bruises and blood all over. He’s beautiful. 

Wade feels something a little tender well up beneath the bone-deep satisfaction, and thinks maybe now, now they can move forward. Not start over, that never works, but he can see now that maybe, in some way he hadn’t quite grasped before, Peter’s just as broken as he is. Even more surprisingly, he may be just as shattered as Peter, as he’d glimpsed that night when Peter had apologized for needing what he needed. 

He sighs, and decides they’re on as close to equal ground now as they’re ever going to get. 

He can’t quite manage to resist the urge to lean over and wipe his dirty cock off on Peter’s face, but once he’s tucked himself away he retrieves the small remote from his pocket and neutralizes the disc in Peter’s neck so he can remove it. Tucking both away, he trades them for a marker and writes his number across Peter’s come-covered stomach. 

* * *

* * *

Three days later, Wade gets a text.

* * *

* * *

Five days later, Wade kisses him outside the movie theatre a couple blocks down from his apartment, and it’s achingly, unbelievably  _ good _ in a way he thought was lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Say hello or leave a request below or [on tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com/)/[twitter](https://twitter.com/dirtbirdie) ♥


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